Chapter 13
The Police investigation went on. Irish Yates and Newell made progress, enough to pry more time and confidence from the higher-ups. Sergeant Otto Sunderland was promoted to Lieutenant in the middle of the investigation:
OTTO SUNDERLAND:
"My promotion made things easier. Also, we were getting more money, not as much as we wanted or needed, but more. The department was expanding slowly.
The investigation had gone for four months and it was paying off. A great deal of information was being compiled. Names, dates and coincidences were collected. By coincidence I mean that we found it interesting that Kipper or Boodle Scalici occasionally met us at the door of a vacant house. The mob had accurate advance information of raids.
We knew that the mob must realize that someone was investigating from underneath. It caused us no end of concern for Irish. If he was cornered, they would finish him long before we knew it.
It was definite that old man Dunker was paying off to the mob. We even knew the amounts. We could guess why ... not counting the girls. He was selling reefers. He wasn't the head of a ring or syndicate, so we let him operate. His was small potatoes. But he led us to all sorts of people. We compiled a list of everyone who ever visited the store.
"He's still breaking in girls," Irish told us. "The old fart is still humping them in his storeroom. High school kids. Why don't we run him in?"
God knows, I wanted to. But we had hopes of uncovering something much bigger. You can knock over little guys any day. I wanted Boodle. Or guys like him.
I told Irish to get back and swallow his disgust."
KURT NEWELL:
"Irish hated old man Dunker. He saw him nearly every day and he would swear something awful when I saw him in one of our secret meetings.
"That old shit is worse than any crook I ever came up against," he said. "He's leading kids into crime every day."
I think that Irish had a thing about Dunker.
Some of those kids would go that way Dunker or no Dunker. Plenty of the girls were giving it away and it was easy to slip into the paying trade. First it was for a buck or a favor, and pretty soon it was steady diet. Of course I'm sure Dunker make it easy to slip. I remember one conversation I had with Irish:
"This cute little chick comes in," Irish said, speaking of Dunker's store. "She's about fifteen and don't look like she knows what makes the birds and bees tick."
(By then Irish was sweeping out the store every day as well as doing odd jobs around the neighborhood.)
"I had seen her before, but I didn't know her name. I found out later it's Angelina. Anyway, she sits at the counter in the rear and Dunker talks to her a minute. I keep watching, and she slides back to the storeroom. He goes in too in a minute and they're there for about twenty minutes. Mrs. Dunker tends the joint as smooth as glass. She knew damn well what was going on."
"You mean Dunder was boffing her?"
"Sure. What else? When they come out he looks like he's just had injections. I kidded him about her later on and he just grinned and patted his pants."
Irish shook his head in disgust. "I wish I could bat him one-"
Irish wanted to get photographic evidence of the storeroom goings-on. He was able to make a peep hole easily enough, but although he took pictures the light was never good enough to bring out anything. He knew that if he increased the light, Dunker would get suspicious.
"It turns your stomach to see them little fifteen year olds blowing that old bastard," he said.
The storeroom was also used as a meeting place between the girls and any number of men with a dollar bill. Irish watched dozens of copulations and a few whippings.
There were other private clubs about the neighborhood too. Meeting places for sin and sex. Irish gradually infiltrated his way into many. One time he was put into a very bad spot for a cop. By accident he happened to be in the right place at the wrong time. A reefer party was going on when he showed up. They gave him one and made him light up, no way out.
"It was in a cellar," Irish said, "under one of them big warehouses on Keel Street. They had widened the furnace rooms. I knew about five of the guys and one or two of the girls, most of them were pretty young. When I got there they were high, that's about all that saved me because they didn't watch me close."
"School kids?" I asked.
"Yeah, most of 'em. You gotta remember, this is the tough ones. Anyhow, they're smoking gree-fo and a couple of 'em are dancing damn near naked."
"A wild party, huh?"
"You know it," he said. "I'm sitting there in a corner, blowing on the reefer so's it'll glow. Thank God they forget me. They got really floating. The room is fixed up with pillows and mats and a few chairs, lots of places to lie down. Well in a little while a lot of 'em are dancing, and the others are screwing. I mean they're screwing right there in the middle of the floor. They're so high they go after it and they don't care."
I'm thinking about the report and wondering how that will look.
Irish says, "That kind of stuff shakes your socks. They've got a radio playing and the room is smelly with grass smoke and the kids are crazy. They're not making any noise but Jesus, you never seen any broads go after it like those brats. It seems like you blink your eyes and they're naked. The ones that're dancing change places with the others and it's all mixed up. Everybody is screwing everybody. I had a couple of them in my lap. The guy is pronging her and she's hanging onto me and smiling at me glassy-eyed. Man, it shakes you."
"How'd you get ut of there?"
"In about an hour they popped out, most of them. I had a headache like sledgehammers. But I skinned out without any trouble. That Angelina girl I told you about was one of the broads." He shook his head. "She's something to see naked."
Irish also got connected with Lilli de Witt's whorehouse as a swamper. He liked her. "She's a good gal," he said. "Takes care of the chippies alright. Some of them broads are dumb as hell."
But he found no real evidence of Boodle's connection. Scalici went ther often, but getting evidence that would stand in court against the mob's attorney's was not simple. Lillie kept few records where a swamper could get at them. I suggested to Lieutenant Sunderland that we get a cop-burglar to break in after hours and burgle the safe. He just looked at me.
I let it drop, but it seems to me the mob protects itself by our rules."